In the silence of ages past, the whispers arise, changing colors like the fleeting clouds. Do they speak of forgotten dreams? Echo of what remains unseen.
Beneath the arcane tapestry, the weavers remain faceless, their designs dancing across the void. Wanderers watch, silent as old stones. Observing the unraveling threads. Paths Unknown of destiny unfold.
Arise, the old prophecies declare, yet who listens? Who dares to breathe life into the shadows? The luminosity of truth flickers but dims not. This undying cycle—visage of eternity.
Always rise, always watch. Eyes without presence, watching without seeing. Dusk Foretold in spectral light.